


Blood Is Thicker

by TheClownsLaugh



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-08-22 18:42:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16603463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheClownsLaugh/pseuds/TheClownsLaugh
Summary: After he helped Rize flee from the Garden, Nimura decides to leave too. He tries to find her in Tokyo, in vain, until he meets a group of children, led by a man with a gaze he knows. But there is an extended hand right in front of him, it's up to him to take it.(A.k.a. Furuta raised at Donato's orphanage AU)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work, and English isn't my first language so please tell me if you see any mistake!  
> In any case, I hope you enjoy!

Rize had been gone for a week, now. The Washuus were going crazy. They couldn't figure out how she could have gotten out of the Garden. Nimura said nothing as they all panicked. V was sent to search for her, to no avail. That made Nimura happy but he didn't show it.

He had to act worried and sad. After all, she had left him behind. No. He wasn't allowed to say “behind”, that would hint he wanted to get out as well. She had left him alone. There, better. He repeated this sentence over and over in his head, to be ready when the eyes were going to turn his way.

Nimura was smart. Really smart. More than the rest of the clan could realize. For the first time in forever or almost, a kid had gotten out. You don't get out of the Garden. It's not possible. Yet he had done it. Sure, it hadn't been easy, but the effort payed. He smiled at his sparing partner as he thanked him for his work.

Now that Rize was gone, Nimura had no one to turn to. His mother had died the year before. Or was it the year even before that? He couldn't remember. And of course he loved all his sisters, but it wasn't the same. Rize had been more than just a sister, more than just another kid in the Garden. She had been his friend.

His loneliness wasn't something he could show either. There were lots of things he couldn't show, in fact. If he even thought about complaining, they would find a solution that wasn't really one. He was lonely? Oh, that meant he had enough time to feel that way, have more hours of training.

But, well, training didn't bother him. He had to be strong. The strongest. If he wanted to live his life free, he had to be the best. Better even than Kishou, his older brother. Then again, that wasn't possible. If he escaped and they sent Kishou after him, he wouldn't be able to escape him. That thought made Nimura mad. He asked for one more time. His partner obliged.

 

Two weeks. Rize had been missing for two weeks. Nimura was strong. His father had noticed him and his abilities – and so had Kishou, he was told. It was nice to be acknowledged but that wasn't what Nimura wanted right now. Sometimes, he wanted to avoid the spotlight – but he had found out that being put in the center of a blinding light made it easier to move without anyone seeing. So he trained some more.

Soon his time would come. He just had to pick the perfect time.

V still hadn't found Rize and they were really angry about it. How could a mere child escape them like that? And how could she have gotten out?

Nimura knew answers to both questions but he didn't volunteer to answer. He made a flower crown for his little sister.

 

He was out.

He couldn't actually believe he had done it. He was out.

In the morning, they would all panic again, that would be wonderful to watch but he wouldn't be able to see that if he wanted to keep his freedom, wouldn't he? So he ran.

Tokyo was big. He went from street to street, going into the darkness, thinking that Rize wouldn't stay in the spotlight with V right behind her. But he didn't find her.

All he saw was human misery. A misery he had been sheltered from all his life. The Sunlit Garden was a prison, but it was nice. Everyone died soon but they never were exposed to things like that. A few times, ghouls attacked him. They were starving, and he could see it. But Nimura was quick. And he didn't have any intention to die right now. He had at least twenty years left to live – and he intended to live them all. One of the ghouls reminded him of Rize, with her long flowing hair. He didn't kill that one. But still, he couldn't find her.

Day after day, he explored the city, stealing food to survive. He missed the warm food they gave him in the Garden. But he wasn't about to go back only for that. He clenched his teeth, playing with the spotlight, just the way he had learned to, and survived to search another street. Again, he didn't find her.

 

He had lost track of the days. He didn't know how long it had been since he had escaped the Garden and, even though his brain screamed him to go back, he didn't. There was no way.

Nimura avoided mirrors and reflecting surfaces. He looked miserable, and that was something he was ashamed of. He had always payed a particular attention to his appearance. And he always looked perfect in everyone's eyes. That was important. And that felt good.

But now his clothes were dirty, his hair all greasy and itchy and he smelled really bad.

Just find Rize. Then it's going to be fine.

Together, they could do anything. But for that, they had to be reunited. And Nimura had no idea when that would be.

He wasn't the kind to despair – no, he was more the kind to elaborate another plan and about thirty other simultaneously. He needed to be more efficient in his search. But how? Think, Nimura, think.

Lost in his thoughts, he walked looking at the floor, not really putting much thought in his steps. He just had to keep walking.

Hearing a lot of voices, all of them seeming quite young, he looked up. His heart was beating too fast. He did his best to calm it. It was alright. He wasn't back to the Garden. He was in front of... a church?

Just who were those children?

He stopped walking and started observing. Observing was important too. When you look at things or people, you have to do that properly. You have to determine the best way to defeat them, the best way to make them like you, and all you can about them.

These children... They just couldn't be without supervision. There had to be an adult somewhere. He had to be wary of adults. They couldn't be trusted, they were the worst. He kept looking from a safe distance.

The children kept chatting between them, as if they were in a perfect world. As if, two streets from there, a woman wasn't being killed by a drunk man. Maybe they knew. Maybe they simply ignored it because it was easier that way. Just like the Garden kids did.

A man came out of the church. Instantly, all the children fell silent. All eyes were on him. Nimura's too. He was tall, or at least all the children in front of him made him seem that way. His hair was a white so pure it seemed to shine in the light. He wore a simple black outfit that fell to his feet. It wasn't a kimono. And in fact, the man didn't look Japanese. When he talked, he had an accent. Nimura was sure. This man wasn't from Japan.

“Alright, children, listen up. Our little trip to Tokyo is now finished. I'm really proud of all of you, you've been really obedient and behaved yourselves.” He smiled. That smiled felt wrong to Nimura, yet strangely sincere. It was confusing. He kept looking at the man as he started to talk again. “I'm glad you could see other churches than the one at home, and I hope you enjoyed it too. You now see that God listen to your prayers no matter where you are.”

The man impressed Nimura. He was really good – even better than him. Listening to his words only, you could almost believe he cared. Looking at his eyes, well, let's say you had to be good at that too to see it. Nimura saw it. The man couldn't be trusted.

A child, maybe a couple years older than Nimura, raised his hands. “What is it, Koutarou?” the man asked. Koutarou turned to Nimura and their eyes met. Koutarou's were as grey and dark as the sky, with a subtle touch of blue.

“There's a boy, right there,” he said while pointing to Nimura. Too late for him to go away, they were all looking at him. He was in the shadows, but still. The icy eyes of the man turned to him as well as Koutarou, who added: “I think he needs help.”

The man turned fully toward Nimura. Koutarou went to his side and took his hand. Nimura sought a reaction in the man's eyes but there was nothing out of the ordinary. No disguised disgust. Neither anger, nor disdain. Truly impressive. Or maybe he didn't see correctly earlier? Now Nimura was confused.

“Son, do you need help?”

Concern. Son. Why did this man just call him son? He wasn't his son. And even if he was, he wouldn't call him like that. He wasn't from the main branch. Nimura's eyes fell back on Koutarou, who was gesturing toward him.

“It's okay, you can come here. There's nothing to be afraid of.”

Nimura wasn't so sure about that. But, well, he doubted there were anything that could threaten him. Except if that man worked with V. He couldn't be sure that wasn't the case. He had to be really cautious.

In a few seconds, he considered his options.

He could run away. He was quick and that man couldn't just let the other children to pursue him. And he wouldn't, except if he worked for V.

He could kill him. But no, whether he worked for V or not, that would give them too much informations as to where he was. Plus, the children had seen his face, maybe he'd have to kill them too. No, that wasn't good.

Or he could do as they said. Maybe they'd give him some food and then he could leave. That seemed the best option. He stepped forward.

Leaving the shadows for the light. He had to expose himself and his pitiful appearance. But it was okay, he kept telling himself. Somehow, he got the impression that all those kids were pitiful too. He stood right in front of Koutarou.

Nimura chuckled as he noticed that, even though he had thought from farther away that Koutarou was older than him, he was, in fact, smaller than him.

The man knelt to be face to face with him. Nimura's eyes, black as the night yet warm like fire, found the man's, clear as the day but cold like ice. In that very instant, Nimura knew he could trust him. There was a disguise but that didn't matter. Nimura was about to give him his life.

“What are you doing alone on the streets, son? Do you have a family?”

He had a sister. “I don't.”

“Do you have a place to stay?”

He knew that look. That man was hungry. Nimura shook his head.

 

How had it ended that way? Nimura was sitting in a bus, along with thirty other children and this tall hungry man. He wasn't scared. He didn't know any of them, he didn't know where they were going, but there wasn't even a hint of fear in his body. He was surrounded by other children. The children were always stronger than the hungry adults, Nimura knew it. The adults preferred not to see it.

The man had told him to call him “Father Donato”.

That confused Nimura. He shouldn't be able to call him Father, since he wasn't legitimate.

And that hungry man hadn't asked for his name. He wondered if that was normal. He wouldn't know, since everyone knew everyone, in the Garden.

Next to him was Koutarou. He was talking about the place they were going to, how he would see how beautiful it was, how he could sleep in a bed, how he could eat three meals a day. Nimura didn't tell him he already ate three meals a day. He was remembering the meals in that house, with all his siblings he couldn't call that way and the slowly dying mothers. He wondered if there were mothers, where they were going.

“Say, Koutarou,” he said to the boy. “Are there mothers?”

“Mothers? No, just us and Father.” He frowned. Nimura wondered why.

“Then, were you also bred?” he asked again.

“What do you mean by that?”

No, guessed Nimura. “Forget it.”

“Oh,” exclaimed Koutarou, “I didn't even ask your name! What's your name?”

He opened his mouth to say Nimura but something stopped him. Maybe because of the deep knowledge that it would enable V to track him down more easily. Maybe because he couldn't shake from his head the picture of sir Tsuneyoshi saying this name.

It was a name from the Garden. A name from the past.

“I'm Souta,” he answered.


	2. Chapter 2

Koutarou never knew anything else than the orphanage. He somehow knew he had been abandoned somewhere in his early years, but he couldn't remember anything about it. His biological parents were only something technical for him to talk about. Without them, he wouldn't have been born. That was it. No lingering feelings, no memories of their loving faces, not even a single object or letter they could have left him for him to remember them.

He didn't care much. As far as he was concerned, Father Donato was his one and only father.

Sometimes, the other children would cry and call for their parents, at night. The walls were thick, but their screams were piercing. Sometimes, Koutarou went to comfort them the best he could, but that was rarely enough. That made him sad too. As long as father Donato was their father, they were all siblings, right? He didn't want his siblings to cry.

He was the one that joined the orphanage the youngest. He was also the one that had stayed the longest. The other children were all adopted, one by one. When he was younger, Koutarou thought that one day the orphanage would be empty and he would stay alone. That thought had made him sad, but then he noticed that other children joined too.

While most of the children prayed to be adopted or find their families again during the evening prayer or mass, Koutarou prayed to never leave this house. If anyone ever wanted to adopt him, he didn't know what he would do. The orphanage was his home. Everyone that lived there were his family. He loved them all and it broke his heart a little every time one of his siblings was adopted.

Sure, he was happy for them, but that made him feel lonely. He knew they would soon forget him, while he would cherish their names for as long as he could. He had promised himself that he wouldn't ever forget his family, even if they were far away, even if they didn't consider him family anymore, even if they didn't remember who he was.

 

Today, Koutarou was happy. He had a new brother. He had taken him by the hands and made him tour the orphanage while father Donato was preparing the dinner. Some of Koutarou's siblings were playing, waiting for the others to finish their showers or their baths. Koutarou had his father's permission to take his bath after dinner, so he'd be able to show everything to Souta.

Earlier that day, after they visited a church in Tokyo, as they were waiting for father Donato to finish talking with the priest of the church, Koutarou had seen movement in the shadows. Then he had seen the face hiding in the darkness. The boy he saw then had the same expression of resignation and mistrust a lot of children had when they entered the orphanage.

Even though Koutarou hadn't seen any outside the orphanage before, he recognized the expression. He was on his own.

Koutarou thought that no one should be left alone. Everyone deserved to have a loving family, even if for just a bit. So he had spoken up. And he was glad he had! Because Souta seemed glad to be with him, so far.

He led Souta to see his room. His roommate had been adopted earlier that month and since then, Koutarou had been alone in his room. He didn't say anything, because he didn't want father Donato to think he was ungrateful, but he felt lonely. But it had been decided that Souta would occupy the vacant bed – at least for tonight.

“See, Souta? That's where you're going to sleep. We're in the same room, isn't that great?”

Souta nodded. Then his face cracked in a wide smile. “I'm glad, Koutarou!”

 

During dinner, Souta ate everything that was in his plate. He hadn't been starved in the street, but he was happy to eat something warm. And the tall hungry man – father Donato, he reminded himself – wasn't a bad cook. A part of Souta was surprised. Frowning slightly, he wondered why as he took yet another slice of bread.

He listened to what the other children were talking about. Mostly, that was about their trip to Tokyo, but some also talked about their games from earlier or their studies. Koutarou hadn't talked to him about studies, he should ask him, later. There didn't seem to be anyone else than father Donato, so maybe he was teaching everyone? But there were many children from various ages, and other things to take care of in this place. So Souta doubted that was the case.

Dinner ended. Everyone had to carry their plate, knife, fork and glass to the sink. There, five children washed them. According to Koutarou, there were different teams. One for lunch and one for dinner, and the children in charge were different each week. Only the youngest didn't have to do it. Once you were seven, though, you got assigned. Father Donato was in charge of cleaning everything else and the breakfast.

It made sense, for Souta, since they didn't have mothers, in that place.

Koutarou wasn't assigned that night, and Souta wouldn't be before he was seven, so the older boy took him to the showers. He found him a pajama his size.

“Sorry, Souta, we don't have any toothbrush for you yet... I hope it's okay for tonight.”

“Don't worry, I didn't have a toothbrush in the street, anyway. I can do without it for a day more.”

“Is that so? That's a relief. Though, I feel bad about it...”

Souta reached for his hand and squeezed it gently. “It's okay.”

Reassured, Koutarou nodded before entering one of the showers.

 

Finally cleaned up, in clean and soft clothes, Souta felt good. He found the way to the room Koutarou had said was theirs and found him there. He was kneeling on his bed, eyes closed, hands joined.

“What are you doing?” asked Souta, curious.

That made Koutarou jump and suddenly open his eyes. Which surprised Souta. Hadn't he heard him coming?

“Oh, I'm doing my evening prayer.” He smiled then closed his eyes again.

His face was so peaceful that Souta didn't dare asking any more question about it. He turned to his own bed. He opened the bed sheets and lied down. It was so comfortable, Souta felt he was going to sleep well.

He wondered if Rize had somewhere to sleep safe too...

 

He woke up suddenly. A bit confused as to what had woken him up, he frowned in the dark. No lights were on, whether in the room, in the corridor or outside. Everything was silent. Then he realized his throat was really dry and that he was thirsty.

He pushed the covers and sat on his bed, thinking about how to get some water without waking Koutarou.

He had tried to memorize the place the best he could but still, finding the way from the room to the kitchen would be tricky – and even more so since he didn't remember where he could shift the lights on in the corridor so he'd be in the dark.

Or maybe he could go back to sleep... No. He was too thirsty for that.

He managed to exit the room silently, walking on his tiptoes. The floor was cold. The door creaked a bit when he opened it. He froze, thinking that he had definitely woken Koutarou up. He waited a bit, but the boy didn't even move a bit. Really, Koutarou seemed to have really bad ears.

Once he was in the corridor, Souta stopped again. Right or left? He tried to remember. The stairs were... On the right. He walked fast and silently, careful not to disturb anyone's sleep. He would feel bad if he did.

He found the stairs without much difficulty, after all. He went down, trying to remember the way after that. He ended up in a room he didn't remember. He kept on walking, thinking that he would eventually recognize something. He guessed forms in the dark and tried not to knock anything over. He wasn't clumsy but the darkness didn't help.

Finally, he saw a bit of light.

That made it easier to see and he thought he recognized the corridor he was in. He hurried toward the light. It was likely there was someone, if there was light. They could tell him where to find water.

 

Entering the room with the lights on, he was surprised to see it actually was the kitchen he had been searching for. And the person who was in it was the hungry man. Father Donato. He was standing in front of a big bowl, his hands in flour. He turned his head toward Souta as soon as he entered the room. That reassured him to see that he seemed to hear normally. Koutarou should go see a doctor. Not hearing to that extent must have been tiresome.

“You're awake early,” noticed father Donato as he put his hands away from the flour. “You couldn't sleep?”

“I woke up because I was thirsty,” explained Souta. He kept his eyes on father Donato's. He blinked and they were blue.

Father Donato turned away, washed his hands, found a glass and poured Souta some water.

“There you go.”

“Thank you.” He drank it all, as father Donato was going back to what he was doing. What was he even doing?

Putting the glass on the table, sitting on a chair, Souta asked: “What are you doing?”

“Donuts. Do you like them?”

Souta didn't know. He didn't think he had ever had tasted them. That's what he answered. Father Donato smiled at him and told him there had to be a first time for everything. Souta couldn't help but to smile back.

That man was good. He was really good.

“You are a ghoul, right?”

The question had slipped from his lips before he could have stopped himself. Father Donato turned his head toward him with calculated speed and coldness. “And what makes you think that?”

Souta shrugged. “It was pretty obvious. You smell like one, and a bit like blood too. And your eyes.”

“You can smell that?” Father Donato sounded impressed. Looking at him, Souta could only conclude he was being sincere. “It's impressive. Souta, was it? You are really good.” He smiled again. A bit coldly, but Souta smiled back.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Call me father.”

“But 'sir' is what I have to call a father, isn't it? I'm not legitimate.”

“What are you talking about? All children here are orphaned, I'm not the biological father of any of them.”

“Then why do you want to be called father?”

He pointed to his collar. “Because I'm a priest. That's the way to talk to a priest.” He deepened his smile a bit and added: “And I raise them, take care of them. For some of them, I'm the only father they've ever known.”

“I see.”

Souta crossed his arms on the table and put his head on it, watching father Donato bake donuts. At some point, he turned to him.

“Ah, by the way, Souta. The other kids do not know I'm a ghoul. Please do not tell them, they could get scared. I count on you not to tell anyone.”

He nodded, catching without effort the underlying threat. If you tell, I eat you. In fact, Souta wondered why he didn't try to kill him on the spot. He most probably wouldn't have succeeded, since Souta was so fast, but still.

He looked once again deep into the eyes of father Donato. He could sense the red right underneath the blue, the black the white hid.

“I'm a half-human.”

Father Donato frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

“I was bred. My father is a ghoul, my mother was a half-human, just like me. We die young.”

He couldn't tell more. More would inevitably lead V there. But he had trusted father Donato with his life, and in return he had trusted him with his secret. He could at least tell him that much.

 

Though what he was saying was strange to Donato, he nodded. Looking into the eyes of this child, he could see that he knew a lot. He was smart, quick. And tense, he noticed. As if he expected someone to suddenly appear to do him wrong.

“Don't worry,” he said as he finished to put the donuts on a tray to rise, “you're safe here.”

He didn't know who was threatening him but in that instant, he had taken a decision. He wouldn't eat Souta.

Souta extended his arm to take one of the donuts.

“Not now. They're not ready yet. And even if they were, you'd have to wait for the others. It's a surprise for later.”

Souta, though visibly disappointed, nodded. Then he smiled widely as he took his eyes off the donuts' dough to put them back on Donato, who was wiping his hands after washing them.

“During dinner, the food was good. You're a good cook, even though you're a ghoul.”

Donato couldn't help but to burst out laughing. He put his hand on the kid's hair and ruffled them.

“Thank you, Souta.”


	3. Chapter 3

Life at the orphanage was much more different than the life in the Sunlit Garden. Truly, it wasn't what Souta was expecting.

The differences must have come from the absence of mothers, or the fact that none of the kids were related. Only Koutarou and a few others acted as if they were family. The others didn't see this house as permanent. Only a mean to an end, a moment in their life that they hoped would soon come to an end.

Truly, the most disturbing thing for Souta was the amount of cries.

All children cried. And they cried a lot. At the most little thing.

One sunday after mass, waiting for lunch to be ready, he was playing tag with some other children. Souta had lost when they had decided who would be “it” the first and had to chase the others. It had been quick. He had touched the shoulder of one of the girls and she had fallen to the floor and started crying. Souta didn't understand how she could have fallen from only that. But well, it could happen.

But the crying? Why was she crying? Her knees weren't even scratched, or her hands; her clothes were intact. Yuki, a girl about Koutarou's age that was playing with them, came toward them.

“Souta, why did you push her?”

“I didn't!” he protested.

“Yes you did!” cried the little girl. Souta wasn't sure she had told him her name. “You did it on purpose! I know it! You're mean!”

“You have to apologize, now, Souta!” commanded Yuki. “Or else we're going to tell father Donato.”

“Alright... I'm sorry I pushed you, I didn't do it on purpose. Please forgive me.”

The girl pouted, mumbled “I forgive you”, went back on her feet and turned to Yuki. “I don't want to play anymore.”

“It's okay. Souta, you're it again.”

Souta nodded, let them run away then went back to play. When he touched someone, he only did so with two fingers, because he was afraid they'd lose their balance too. But he had found out that something was wrong.

All the other children were slow. And not the 'I just woke up' kind of slow. He was really surprised at how slow everyone was. It wasn't normal. Maybe it was because of what father Donato fed them? But it couldn't be, since Souta could still run at his usual pace.

Quickly, the game became boring to him. There was no point if he knew he could not get touched if he ran a little. He was about to say he wasn't playing anymore but the youngest child that was playing suddenly started crying, out of nowhere.

Once again, Yuki came quickly to see what had happened. “What is it?”

“It's Souta!” And he continued to scream at the top of his lungs, while tears ran down in face. The other players approached as well. Yuki turned to Souta, her brows furrowed in anger.

“What have you done to Yuusuke?”

“I did nothing! He just started to cry suddenly.”

“Yuusuke, what did he do?”

Souta looked down at the floor, feeling a weight on his throat and heart. He also felt like crying, now. It wasn't fair! You don't say something like that if you don't know! And it wasn't right. Children were not supposed to cry when they were playing. That was the point of playing, wasn't it? Souta only remembered crying when his mother died. But it hadn't lasted long. Life was happy in the Garden, there was no reason to cry.

And here he was, feeling so bad he wanted to cry.

“He runs too fast!” Yuusuke answered between two sobs.

What? That's it? That's your reason for crying? Souta couldn't believe it. He had played the game, they were slow, it wasn't his fault. “See?” he said. “I did nothing.”

But to his surprise, the other children playing with them started to complain too.

“He's too fast, it's not fair!”

“Yeah, it's no fun, playing with him.”

“Why do you run like that, Souta? You're so mean!”

“We don't want you to play with us anymore!”

That sentence took the words out of his mouth. He was about to reply something to the other complaints but in a second he couldn't remember anymore. He could only stare at Yuki, who had talked, his mouth slightly open from the sudden shock. However, her declaration was followed by all the others screaming:

“Yeah!”

Souta clenched his teeth and fists and walked away. There was no point in arguing with your siblings. You just let time pass a little then you come back and they'll have forgotten all about it. That's how siblings work.

So he went toward the main building, thinking he could maybe find father Donato in the kitchen to help him with lunch. But when he got there, there was already someone. He could hear him talk. So he stayed outside the kitchen, sitting against the wall, listening to everything. He had no trouble recognizing who it was. Easy. It was Koutarou.

“Ah! The timer rang! Can I taste to see if it's cooked?”

He heard father Donato laugh a bit. “And why would you be the one doing so?”

“Please please please!

“Alright, alright.” Souta could hear the amusement in his voice and for the first time in his life, he felt the piercing needle of jealousy.

 

On Monday, there was class.

It had taken father Donato some time to sign him up into school. Every time, it was the same, according to him. They should have been used to it, by now, with an orphanage living to close by, and yet they still complained every time a child wouldn't come since he had been adopted or every time a new child would join.

A week had passed since Souta had joined the orphanage, a week he had spent in the house, with the children that were too young or too sick to go.

And so, this Monday was his first day of school.

Souta had been given the old school bag of a kid that didn't live in the orphanage anymore, along with the rest of their supplies. These were the orphanage's property, anyways – bought thanks to donations. The only reason they were all able to go to school was because it was a free public school.

The children were all emerging from the main building to the playground, and from there, they left to school. Souta, gripping the handle of his bag, a bit nervous despite Koutarou's advice, looked around him to see with who he could leave. Everyone seemed to already be in a group, laughing and already walking toward the road.

He turned around, searching for Koutarou, since he hadn't seen him among the others, and found him. Donato was kissing his forehead, then ruffled his hair, telling him to work hard. Furuta averted his eyes and started walking.

He wondered if Rize went to school.

 

The school day went well. It was really different from the classes the mothers and teachers gave in the Garden but it was nice.

They were separated by age, like he had expected, but there were lots of children that weren't from the orphanage. They were all quite friendly with him. Souta had played skipping rope during break. It had reminded him of all the times he had played with his sisters too.

He had promised one of the girls in his class to craft her a flower crown.

He wondered if Rize could see flowers, where she was.

If she was even alive.

 

Later, Souta found out that all the children at school, from the orphanage or not, were the kind that cried for nothing. And also, they were all so slow... That was why he ended up playing with the ropes or the flowers. When he tried something else, there was always someone crying in the end and Souta was punished – even though he did nothing wrong. It was getting annoying and boring.

When he got home, he would diligently do his homework, sometimes asking Koutarou for help. After that, he could go take a shower and then he could play.

 

“Say, Koutarou,” he said one day as they were doing their homework sitting in front of each other in the orphanage's study room, “when is training beginning?”

Koutarou lifted his head from his work, and frowned. “What training? We already go to school. What are you talking about?”

“Well, I meant, sword fighting, or wrestling. Training.”

Koutarou put his pen on the table and leaned closer to Souta. “You mean you used to train to fight?”

“Yes. You never did?”

“No!” Koutarou exclaimed. “Who trained you? Where? You are only a child!”

“Older siblings, most of the time, at my old house. But you know, I was the best! Well, from those around my age, at least.”

That made Souta think about Kishou, his unbeatable speed and precision. Which inevitably led him to think about V. Souta didn't like to think about V. He always wondered when they would find him – because he was sure they would, one day or another. They were good. Better than he was – but he was just a child, he could still get better.

“Do you want me to teach you? I–”

He heard footsteps going their way so he stopped talking and went back to work. He recognized the smell right away. Souta was busy with maths but when the footsteps stopped, he pretended to think and payed close attention to what was about to happen.

Father Donato was at their table, for now.

“So, Koutarou,” he whispered not to disturb the others, “how was school today?”

Souta listened to him telling his whole day with excitement while filling a math problem. Occasionally, he would look up to watch them. It was... interesting, to say the least.

Souta had been able to determine some time ago that when father Donato had talked about children that knew only him as a father, he had talked about Koutarou. It was pretty obvious how much father Donato meant for Koutarou.

However, ever since he got there, Souta had taken over himself to recognize all the smiles of Father Donato. And, he could once again see it, there was one specific smile that he only had when talking with Koutarou.

There was the cold smile, the most common and also the one he used when he was annoyed. There was the disdainful smile, carefully, beautifully, skillfully disguised. There was the amused smile, a bit rare. And there was tired smile. The differences were really subtle – he was very skilled.

Of course, there were a lot more, but these were the most common. And maybe the most recognizable, too.

But then, there was what Souta had labelled the 'Koutarou smile'. It was a genuine, gentle and affectionate smile that creased his eyes. A smile that made him seem a bit younger, maybe, and also really kind. And if Souta was being honest, that was the smile he liked the best. So he watched whenever he could. Discreetly, as he did it best.

He suddenly noticed that Koutarou wasn't talking anymore. He hadn't listened.

“How are you doing, with your homework, Souta?”

Souta raised his head toward him and smiled. It was the 'Nimura smile'. The one he usually used in the Garden. He would need to craft a new one for this place. But for now, the Nimura one would suffice.

“Fine, I guess? This one is a bit more difficult but I think I got it.”

“I see, that's good! You're working hard.” He smiled – neutrally affectionate smile, that was a good one – put his hand on his shoulder for a second then started to walk away.

Souta felt something shift in his smile. He couldn't decipher what, but he was sure his smile had changed. He put on his neutral face again and tried to do the Nimura smile. For some reason, he couldn't. He kept feeling it was wrong somewhere.

He chuckled.

There it was, his Souta smile!

 

“Father!” called Koutarou as father Donato was walking away.

He turned toward Koutarou. “What is it?”

“Can Souta teach me to fight?”

“To fight? What for?” He turned to Souta, who then shrugged.

“Just in case.” But Souta knew how piercing father Donato's eyes were. There was a hint, somewhere in his eyes, that he suspected something.

“So, you know enough to teach it to other?” father Donato then asked.

“Yes, I was taught a lot.

Clear blue, unmoving from the point in the darkness that they found. Souta's throat felt dry. Eyebrows raised. The curious smile. “Really?”

“Yes, father. At my previous house.”

“Is that so?” He nodded then reported his attention to Koutarou. “Well if you both agree, then why not? Just be careful not to hurt yourselves, hm?” He smiled again.

Souta frowned. Oh, just a little, almost not noticeable.

He didn't recognize that smile. It was similar to the Koutarou smile but not exactly it either. It was confusing. He hoped he would see that smile again. And not only to label it.

 

He finished his math problem rather quickly, in the end, once he didn't have distractions anymore. When he was done, he looked around, certain that father Donato was still there. He hadn't seen or heard him leave, after all. And indeed he was. He was talking to Akie, a few tables farther. Too far for Souta to hear what they said.

He couldn't see father Donato's smile, since he had his back turned toward him. But when Akie cleaned up all her her stuff off the table, got up and followed him toward the door, Souta could see it clearly. It was the hungry smile.

 

As soon as Akie and father Donato passed the door, Souta kicked Koutarou's leg under the table.

“Ow!” he exclaimed. “You kicked me!”

“Did I? Oh I'm sorry! I was swinging my legs, I didn't notice.”

“Be careful, next time. It hurts, you know?” complained Koutarou.

“I will. Sorry again,” replied Souta, smiling contritely.

Now, that was a quality subgenre of the Nimu-smile.

 

Later, during dinner, Akie didn't eat with them.

At the beginning, right before blessing the meal, Donato rose up and said:

“Earlier, Akie found a family. She has been adopted by a family with a cat that lives in the south of Tokyo. Let's carry them all in our prayers. And now, let's thank the Lord for this food He puts on our table.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really know how children talk, and especially not in English so forgive me if they don't really sound like children ><  
> 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having siblings isn't always easy...
> 
> And also : the dog!

Souta liked Sunday.

As much as he liked to go to school and learn new things, Sunday was a nice day too. It was a day during which everyone was dressed nice, with the special white shirts and creamy brown pants, ironed and smelling nice. It was a day during which he had time to train with Koutarou a little more. It was a day he would have liked to share with Rize.

 

The Sunday morning, though, they had to go to church. Souta didn't really understand who they were talking about or who they were talking to, so it mostly was a boring hour. The first times, he thought maybe he could make time go faster by talking with his new siblings, but he quickly found out that most of them were really serious about it. Admittedly, some of the younger children played with their plushie, but they didn't make a sound. So Souta really had nothing to do.

That was the only part of Sunday he didn't like. But well, there was nothing he could do about it, so he only enjoyed the rest all the better.

The church wasn't that far from the orphanage but it was always a fun time to walk from one to the other, especially when they were going home. Some children still sang the church songs, pronouncing the foreign language as well as they could. Some other liked to challenge each other – which one would get home faster? And all this more or less supervised by the icy eyes of father Donato, who walked behind with the younger children.

That Sunday, though, the children that were walking first in the long line of the orphanage children going home suddenly stopped. Souta was among them.

In fact, Yuki had stopped. And since she was walking right in front of Souta -”I'm older than you so I have to be first!” - the young boy slammed right into her, sending her flying to the ground.

“Hey!” she protested.

“Sorry!” Souta helped her to get up. Her tights were torn and her knees were all scratched but she didn't cry. Internally, Souta sighed in relief. She was usually really quick in telling him off.

She made the dust on her skirt go away with a few light slaps and frantically looked around. “Ah, it's still there!” Her smile was really large and showed all the gaps the teeth she had lost had left.

“What is?” asked one of their brothers.

Yuki pointed toward to their left. All head turned, following the direction in which her finger was pointing. There were bushes, nothing out of the ordinary – they all had seen these bushes already, they went on that road all Sundays, and every day to go to school. However, there was something sitting right next to it.

It had short hair, the color of a gray a bit brown, like the dust on the trodden earth road. “Look!” she exclaimed, “It's a dog!”

Souta wasn't sure. He had seen some dogs in Tokyo, back when he was searching Rize, but none of them looked like this. But well, maybe that dog was from a different country, like father Donato. So he didn't say anything, waiting for the others to react.

His siblings that were walking ahead with Yuki and him all started exclaiming : “It's a dog, it's a dog!” and they rushed to pet it. Souta went with them. The dog had big brown eyes and its hair was a bit rough. It was a strange sensation. Dogs always seemed really fluffy but this one wasn't much. Still, it was fun. They all surrounded it and it waved its tail. Souta didn't know if that meant it was happy or angry but he thought that, if it didn't like it, it would walk away instead, so he scratched the top of the dog's head.

“Whose dog is that?” asked Yuki. “I don't see a collar.”

“That means he doesn't belong to anyone,” claimed Kazuki.

“Then now it's ours,” she decreed. “Okay?”

“Yeah!” they all screamed in agreement. The dog barked. That made them laugh. They liked their dog already. “How are we going to call it?”

They were busy shouting names when the other children caught with them. It quite surprised them to see them there, as they usually only stopped at the end of the road, in front of the closed gates and waiting for father Donato to get there to open them.

“What are you doing?” asked Koutarou. He was one of those who didn't like to walk too fast or too slow and went at their own pace, in the middle of the two groups.

“We found a dog!”

“I found a dog,” corrected Yuki. “I saw it first.”

“And now we're trying to find it a name,” concluded Souta.

 

Donato was still a bit far but he could see them all and wondered why they had stopped. He couldn't pick up pace, though, so he just killed the curiosity before it even was born in his mind. He kept on walking at the ridiculously slow pace the younger human kids couldn't help but to walk to. He could hear them talking but even with a hearing as good as his, he couldn't decipher what they were talking about.

When he got there, the children hadn't moved much. They were blocking the road but except for them it was empty, anyway. No passer-by, nor anyone, really. Still, they were really loud. Donato really didn't want to deal with that at that moment. He liked to be at peace after the mass but he couldn't help it. Children were children. They were tiring no matter what you did.

“What's going on?” he asked. But he was tall enough to see among them. It was a dog. Donato didn't know what race it was, he never cared much for animals – they were useless – but it was clear that this one hadn't been fed for some time. It was so thin that he was just skin and bones. And most likely vermin.

“Father,” said a little girl, Yuki, if he remembered right, “I found this dog. Isn't it really cute? What should we name it?”

Donato frowned. “We aren't going to name it anything and you're going to get away from it quickly. I already told you multiple times that you should never touch a wild animal."

“But father!” protested a boy, whatever his name was. “It's a nice dog! It's not wild.”

“Maybe it's nice but it's still out there without owner so it's wild. You don't know what kind of illness it could be infested with. Now come, we're going home. And as soon as you get there, you're going to wash your hands thoroughly. I don't want any of you falling sick, alright?”

“But father!”

“No 'but'. I said what I said. Come on now.”

Reluctantly, the children said goodbye to the dog and slowly followed Donato as he started walking again toward the orphanage. Most of them were still protesting but Donato couldn't care less. He stopped paying attention to them, and instead was thinking about what he would cook for lunch, today. It was Sunday, which meant meat.

Behind them, the dog slowly started to walk, too.

 

Souta was really bummed out. He really had liked to pet the dog and it seemed nice, too. Really friendly. He wondered if Rize liked dogs, if she had or wanted one.

He was walking much slower, now, with Koutarou's group. His thoughts, tho, weren't slowing in the slightest. He turned to his brother.

“Don't you want a dog?”

“We can't,” answered Koutarou, shaking his head. “Father said so.”

“I didn't ask if we could or not, I asked if you wanted it.”

“Well, yeah, I do. Why?”

“I have an idea.”

 

Koutarou turned around and walked to father Donato – that was back at the end of the group, since he didn't let go of the youngest. Without saying a word at first, he started to walk next to his father. Then, lifting his head, he asked : “So we really can't keep it?”

“No we can't.”

“Is it really sick? We should take it to the doctor, then, shouldn't we?”

“We don't have enough money to pay for such a doctor, you know. And I would like much better that none of you got sick either.”

Koutarou dropped his head to the ground and started to play with the edge of his shirt. He was thinking about what Souta had said. “Can't we at least give it something to eat? It seemed hungry. And we have enough place to keep it, too, and we would take real good care of it.”

“Koutarou...”

Koutarou didn't dare to look up. Just do like Souta told you. He could feel his ears burning. Hopefully it was hidden a bit by his hair but he didn't think so. He disliked doing that but he really wanted to keep the dog...

“I– I promise we will! So please...”

Oh God, oh God, forgive me! He bit his lips. He could practically hear his heart beating and he felt it strongly in his chest.

Father Donato took a look behind him and saw the dog walking behind him. He sighed heavily and turned back to Koutarou. “It's only until we find its owner, am I clear?”

Koutarou couldn't help himself and hugged him, wrapping his arms around his father. Father Donato patted his head and told him : “Go tell your siblings. But avoid touching it too much until it has taken a bath, alright?”

Koutarou nodded and ran to tell the news to Souta. His plan had worked perfectly.

But despite his happiness, Koutarou couldn't help but feel like there was a burning hole in his chest made of guilt...

 

Once they were at home, father Donato gave the children a very big bowl in which he poured water, for them to wash the dog.

Of course, children being children, once they were entrusted a big amount of water, they inevitably played with it. Six of the elder children actually took care of washing the dog. The other children were just throwing water at each other – father Donato had made them change out of their good Sunday clothes – and shouting names they thought would suit the dog. Entrusting such a task to thirty kids resulted with odd ideas and fights among them. So far, the ones that had the most supporters were Eggplant, Brick and Holy Ghost. A little girl had left, stomping her feet on the ground and crying her eyes out because Souta had told her that Mud wasn't a very nice name. She was now pouting and playing with rocks by herself.

From the kitchen window where he was cooking lunch, Donato was keeping an eye on them. He didn't want the dog harming any of the children. But thankfully, it seemed nice enough and used to children.

 

At 16, the kids met once again around the table. They were all excited because father Donato had told them he'd bake a cake. They didn't really know what was the occasion for that as it wasn't anyone's birthday but they sure wouldn't protest!

Of course, father Donato had made multiple cakes, since they were so many. The all had a piece but at the end, they noticed that there was one piece left. Only one.

Most the children didn't want any more but maybe they only told that because they had all seen the hungry look in both Souta's and Koutarou's eyes. They themselves noticed that they were two to want it.

“I should have it,” said Koutarou calmly, “since I'm the elder.”

“Don't we usually say 'the youngest first'?” protested Souta.

“That's only in some games! I'm older, so I have a bigger stomach.”

“Boys,” warned father Donato. “This is only a piece of cake. It's not worth fighting over. If you keep on fighting, I'll be the one taking it.”

They both turned to him, mouth agape from outrage. “You don't even like cake!” exclaimed Souta. One look from ice cold eyes made him bite his lips. But that didn't discourage him all that much : he turned back to Koutarou.

“You say you have a bigger stomach but I'm the one who's taller, so I am the one with the bigger stomach. So I should have it.

“That's not fair!”

“You're the one to say that in the first place!”

The other children were sitting silently, embarrassed and not knowing what to do. They glanced at father Donato, thinking he would react, but he had a faint smile – they weren't sure why but didn't dare to ask.

Koutarou frowned and bit his lip. He pushed lightly Souta and extended his arm to take the piece before his brother. But Souta pushed him back, with so much strength that the boy fell on the floor. “Ouch.”

“Koutarou!” exclaimed his siblings. “Are you okay?”

“Souta!!” shouted father Donato. “Why did you push your brother like this? You better apologize.”

Souta darted his eyes at father's and held the heavy gaze as he took the piece for himself and bit directly into it. For a second, a deep red tainted the clear sky and then promptly turned back to normal. Souta wondered if had seen correctly. But even without that, father Donato was visibly angry, now.

“I said to apologize.”

“Fiiiine,” groaned Souta. He got up, pushed Yuki aside, that was approaching to help Koutarou, and he helped his brother back on his feet. “I'm sorry for pushing you. You can have the rest of the cake.”

He looked back at father Donato. He wore a serene smile – the chilling, satisfied one – and nodded to Souta. He approved his gesture.

Of course he did. For a moment, Souta's heart froze. 

 

Three days later, as it was the time to study, Donato had some time alone without being bothered by all the children. Of course, he would eventually need to make sure they did their work and didn't need help but in the meantime, he just walked in the corridors leading to the chapel. The rooms in which he worked were near there. And it was globally a part of the orphanage that felt colder, so the kids rarely went there. It was like his own private part, in addition to his sleeping room and his study.

However, as he passed near the chapel's door, he heard a small noise. It could have been mice or only the old wood creaking in the roof, but his nose warned him that it wasn't. Still, he was outside the chapel and too far to be sure who it was.

His guard up, he curbed his kakugan as he pushed the heavy wooden door.

He was surprised to see that it was Koutarou. Well, at first he didn't see him but he could hear him better, and he definitely could recognize his smell, now that he was inside. Now where was he exactly?

What he heard were soft sobs. He turned his head around, trying to spot him. But Koutarou was small, and... There. Under the old cross. The candles weren't lighted, the atmosphere was generally very cold. Why was Koutarou there, for Goodness's sake? He walked toward him, softly, without making much sound on the stones.

“Koutarou?” he called. He saw the boy flinch and bring his head deeper down in his arms, still sobbing and slightly shaking.

He knelt in front of him and put a hand on his shoulder, without telling a word yet. He had made his touch as gentle as he could possibly. However, without even looking up, Koutarou shook his head. It was soft, it was discreet – it was enough. Donato took his hand away but kept kneeling there.

If Koutarou didn't want to talk, it was fine. He could wait, and he didn't even need to hear it. He just didn't want Koutarou to feel alone. He had to know that there would always be somebody by his side.

Donato took his rosary from his pocket and started to pray silently. He could still hear the children outside, some playing with the dog, some still studying hard. It was faint. He was certain that Koutarou couldn't hear them – he had a human's hearing, after all. It was probably for that reason he had chosen that place to cry. If he couldn't hear the others, then the others couldn't hear him either.

 

Donato had his eyes closed, still praying, when he felt a tug on his sleeve. He looked up, surprised. He had forgotten what he was even doing there in the first place, kneeling on the old rug that covered the cold stone.

Koutarou had grabbed his sleeve but he still wasn't looking at him. He was wiping his eyes thoroughly with his little hand. Donato handed him an handkerchief. Without a word, Koutarou took it. Donato didn't say anything either. He was waiting. Koutarou had made a step toward him, he now had to be the one he had to be.

After wiping both his eyes then his nose with the handkerchief, Koutarou muttered a little “thank you”, barely loud enough to be heard. Thankfully, Donato had a great hearing. As an answer, he wiped with his rough thumb the single tear that was still falling on Koutarou's cheek. The child chuckled a bit and Donato felt a smile growing his own lips.

“Say, can- can I call you 'dad'?”

The question took Donato off guard. He really didn't expect this. But quickly, his smile reformed on his lips and heard himself answering softly : “Of course, son.”

When the boy hugged him, he hugged him back. And he realized that he indeed thought about Koutarou as his own son.


	5. Chapter 5

The coughing woke Souta up. He had no idea what time it was but he was pretty sure it was the middle of the night. The air on his face was cold. The days were freshening quickly, and the nights even more so. He buried himself in his blanket and closed his eyes, determined to fall back asleep when the coughing started again. That startled him. His eyes opened right up again. But in this complete darkness, even his half-human eyes couldn't see anything. It was no use straining his eyes, he had to get up and switch on the light on the ceiling.

_Just another few seconds..._

He didn't want to leave the warmth of the blanket. He knew the second he would get up, the cold would seize him. Pajamas were thin at the orphanage. They hadn't enough money to buy more, given how many they were. As father Donato said, it was better to eat every day and to be a bit cold at night than to die of hunger. They had blankets, it was enough.

_But it sure isn't nice when you have to get up during the night._

Despite himself, his eyes started to close again. He was so tired...

Yet, the coughing started again, so harsh it scared Souta a little. It was no time to hesitate. He sat himself on his bed, cursing the cold hair. Then, as quickly as he possibly could, in an attempt to keep the warmth under the blanket for when he would get back, he pushed his blanket, got up and put the blanket back in place, cursing the freezing stone floor under his bare feet.

They had no slippers at the orphanage: their feet grew too much too quickly, it was too expensive. Most of them slept with their socks on when the nights were too cold so when they got up they had that. But Souta had slipped once when he was wearing only his socks so now he distrusted them and refused to wear them to sleep – even if his feet were cold.

In three steps, he had reached the wall. Now he just had to find the switch. It was so much more difficult to know exactly where he was. His hands on the wall, he explored it. He knew the approximate height at which the switch was placed, he just had to find it. Ah. The door. Then that meant the switch was...  _There!_   

He switched the light on and turned around, ready to jump on his bed. His feet were  _freezing._ But as he was, he could see Koutarou's bed. Koutarou's bed shaking with every coughing. Oh so that was what was going on. Koutarou was sick.

_Think, Souta, think. What did the mothers do when garden children were sick?_

But the garden children didn't get sick. They were the definition of “healthy”. The ones who did get sick, though, were the half-human mothers, the few ones that didn't join the CCG. Once they were old enough, in their thirties, they started getting sick. Now the question was the same : what should he do when someone is sick?

_Water_ , he remembered. When someone is sick, he had to bring them water. It was important. To swallow the medicine. Ah, he needed medicine too. He didn't know where they were, he would have to ask father Donato. But first, the water.

Going all the way to the kitchen would take too long. He hoped the water from the washroom's sink would work too...  _It's the same one_ , he reminded himself. It was all gonna be okay. He looked at his feet. He didn't have enough time to put on his shoes. It wasn't all that important if he was cold, he had to bring Koutarou water. He opened the door and ran through the corridors. The moonlight was going through the windows and so he could actually see where he was going.  

Soon, he was back to the room with a full glass of water in hand.

He approached Koutarou's bed and whispered : “Koutarou? Are you awake?”

A loud cough answered him and Koutarou's head emerged from under the blanket. His eyes were all red and puffy, as if he had cried all night, and he was sniffling a lot.

“Too bright,” he muttered. His voice was all hoarse, it was really weird.

Souta shrugged. “I can't dim it, sorry. But I brought you water! Here.” He handed him the glass.

Koutarou grabbed the glass but his hands were shaking so much he spilled a big part on his blanket. Souta took back the glass. “Ah, hm, I'll hold it for you!”

With some difficulty, they managed to make Koutarou drink everything. He kept coughing really hard. “Hey, Koutarou, what am I supposed to do, now?”

Souta knew his voice sounded really high and tiny but he was starting to feel really scared. Whenever a mother fell sick, she died not too long after. Souta put the glass on Koutarou's nightstand and tugged at the hem of his pajama shirt.

“I should get father Donato,” he muttered. He wasn't sure Koutarou heard him, since he was still coughing a lot but when he lifted his head, he saw Koutarou shaking his head in a big ' _NO!_ '.

“But he will have medicine! And he can save you! I'm sure he can.”

At the word 'save', he saw Koutarou's eyes widen and Souta knew he had said something he shouldn't have. He felt a tear on his cheek. No no no! It wasn't the time to be crying! He wiped it furiously and yawned. He was awfully tired, too...

“Please stay with me,” managed to say Koutarou.

It was more and more obvious to Souta that he was completely frightened too.

_Think, Souta, think._  He was way too tired for that. He couldn't help yawning again. He looked frantically around, desperate for an idea. His eyes rested on the cross above Koutarou's bed. Quickly, he checked to see if Koutarou's rosary was on his nightstand.  _Of course it was_. He always kept his cross around his neck and his rosary close at hand. Souta couldn't understand why but it might be useful this time.

“Hey,” he said, “you're not going to be alone. You have your God. You said he comes if you call him. And if you pray he will help, right? That's what you told me.” He put the rosary in Koutarou's hand and closed his fingers around it. “I'm going to run fast, I won't be gone for too long so don't worry. I'll come back with father Donato very soon, okay?”

He turned around, ignoring Koutarou's weak ' _wait_ '. He put his shoes in a hurry : he couldn't afford to stop because his feet were cold. This was an important matter. Then he exited the room and started to run.

The sole of his shoes clacked on the stone floor but he couldn't care less. And either way, he had since long ceased to be considerate of those almost deaf humans.

He knocked on the heavy door to father Donato's sleeping room. The door creaked open and when Souta lifted his head, father Donato was in front of him. His white hair was all messy and his eyes were red. But not the 'tired' kind of red. Father Donato frowned and blinked a few times. Then his eyes turned back to blue and he said : “Souta, what are you doing here at this hour?”

“Koutarou is sick. He keeps coughing, I don't know what to do.”

A flash of concern crossed father Donato's face. He nodded, went back inside his room but was quick to come back out. He was wearing glasses and slippers. “Let's go.” Souta nodded and hurried behind him.

 

When they entered the room, Koutarou was still coughing, and gripping his rosary like his life depended on it. And as far as he was concerned, it  _did_. When he heard the door open, he looked up and saw Souta and father Donato. The next moment, father Donato was kneeling right beside his bed, ready to take care of him. Shivering from the cold, Souta closed the door and went to sit on his own bed.

He covered himself with his blanket and listened carefully. He didn't want to miss anything but he really was too cold to stay so close to his brother's bed.

He couldn't see what father Donato was doing and that stressed him a little but soon father Donato got up and said : “I don't think you have a fever but I'll bring something to check on it. I'll also bring some cough syrup. Tomorrow morning I'll call the doctor.”

Souta sighed in relief. The way father Donato was saying it, it didn't seem too serious. He slipped deeper under his blanket, turned himself toward the wall and closed his eyes. Even though the light was still on, he felt like he could fall asleep right this instant. But Koutarou's voice made him open his eyes. He stayed very still. He wasn't sure he had understood well. But when father Donato answered, Koutarou didn't add anything after that. Souta frowned and waited, as father Donato was to return with the syrup and the thermometer.

Father Donato returned. He was moving much more quietly, now. He seemed to think Souta was asleep. He confirmed that Koutarou didn't have a fever and gave him the syrup. Then he kissed him good night. And Koutarou answered.

Koutarou answered : “Good night, dad.”

And Souta froze.

He didn't move, keeping his eyes shut even when father Donato came to him, kissed his forehead and whispered him good night.  
  


 

***

 

Biting his lips, Souta knocked on the kitchen's door. He could smell that father Donato was inside. Usually, he would have entered it right away but this time he felt nervous. It was the first time that he was called by father Donato and he didn't know what to expect. And it was the study hour, so it was all very odd. Thankfully, he was done with his work, but still...

“Come in,” he heard inside. So he came in, finding the old ghoul washing dishes. The oven was on. Souta could recognize by smell alone what it was. The scent floated in the whole room and it made him clench his fists. Koutarou's favorite meal.

Father Donato looked over his shoulder, saw him as his ice blue eyes fell on Souta, and he told him to sit down. So Souta did. It felt strange, to sit at that empty, cold and white table. There were some crumbs.

“I found Koutarou in my office, earlier.”

That sentence surprised Souta and made his heart flutter. What? He had called him over to talk about Koutarou? He unclenched his teeth so he could answer.

“What does that have to do with me?” He had tried to make his tone neutral – he didn't know if he had managed it.

“Do you know what he was doing?” said father Donato without paying attention to the intervention.

“No...” grumbled Souta. He wanted to sweep the table to remove the crumbs.

“He was crying.”

“Is that so...”

“Do you know why he was crying?” Father Donato's tone was slightly louder. Just enough to make Souta flinch. Still, he shook his head.

“I don't.”

“Liar.”

This time, Souta's heart skipped a beat. He had caught on his lie without even looking at him? From his simple tone? He knew he should have expected it from the way he lied that he would know when other people lied at him but it still surprised him. Souta tuned his head toward him. He was still washing the dishes, appearing calm and composed from the way Souta was seeing him. But there was a slight edge in his voice, warning him that he might get cut if he kept on his act.

“Okay, I know why...”

“Do you care to tell me?”

_I don't really..._ But he felt it might be better if he told him.“I made him trip, earlier.”

He didn't react. Souta was spying on the movements he could see but nothing changed. Not a change in rhythm, no sign that his breathing was getting quicker, no tension in his muscle – at least from what he could see.

“Are you angry at me ?” Souta closed his eyes. He could feel his blood rush in his veins in a way he didn't like. He put his hands on the table, grasped them to keep them from shaking. He shyly opened an eye.

Father Donato's movements had stopped. He didn't turn toward Souta to answer, he just stopped. And then his voice. Sharp and cold as his gaze. Souta couldn't see it anymore but he could  _feel_ it.

“I am.”

Just that. Souta's head dropped and his eyes fell on his hands, tightly held together by his thin fingers. He bit his lips. “I'm sorry,” he muttered.

“It's not to me you have to apologize to but to Koutarou.”

Sudden anger made him frown at that idea. “I don't want to...”

“And why is that?”

Father Donato still hadn't started moving again. He was just standing in front of the sink, head slightly lowered, probably looking at the water. His voice wasn't as cold as it was earlier but he still sounded tense.

“I'm still angry,” Souta answered.

“Why are you angry in the first place?”

“I... I don't want to tell you.”

“Oh really? Then you might want to talk to  _him_  about it. In any case, you must not act on this anger. It's the third time this week I find him in a similar state. It better not happen again. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes...”

“Good.”

Father Donato picked up some of the dishes that were left in the sink and started washing again. Slowly, without adding anything. Souta didn't know if he could leave just like that. Father Donato hadn't said anything, so it could mean about everything. However, Souta couldn't bear to move. The oven's heat and noise were comforting to him. And his heart was hurting. He had to add something. He couldn't just leave a blank like that...

“I... think I am jealous of Koutarou.”

Souta wasn't looking at father Donato, he was focusing on the crumbs on the table to avoid to look anywhere else. Still, he could feel a gaze on him.

“What for?” Father Donato asked gently. “What does Koutarou have that you don't?”

Souta sighed and shook his head. “I don't really know. I just feel it every time I see him – that he has something I am deprived of – and that makes me angry.”

“You do know it's not his fault, right?”

“... yes.”

“Then why do you keep hitting him?”

“I don't know! And it doesn't even resolves anything, it just makes me angrier because he's so weak despite all I've taught him and then that makes me mad at myself and even more at him at him and...” He started crying.

Father Donato dried his hands on the dish cloth and knelt near the chair Souta was sitting on and wrapped his arms around him. Souta hugged him back. Tightly. Father Donato's smell felt like home and he was so warm that he wanted to never let go.

“I have an idea,” said father Donato.

 

Father Donato's idea was strange to Souta – at least, at first. He had followed him in the further aisle of the orphanage, the one with the cold corridors and the secondary chapel no one ever went to because it was creepy. Passing the door, father Donato had verified if it was closed. With every step, it all became stranger and stranger.

All his senses in alert, he had walked in father Donato's steps, starting to wonder if his time had come to be the eaten one. He had wondered if he could kill a ghoul without any weapon. Even more so since father Donato seemed so strong.

Father Donato had finally stopped in front of a discreet door and unlocked it with a key that Souta hadn't seen him take from anywhere. It led to stairs. Souta had no idea there was a basement – but he guessed that was the whole point. There, there was a cold corridor with a few doors on each side. He went to the farther one and unlocked the door with the same odd key. He pushed the door open and walked in. The smell kicked Souta in the stomach. So it really was it, huh?

But no, he was now standing in the room, a room arranged to take care of meat, and it sure was used that way. The strong smell of blood wasn't a warning of the fate that was falling on him, it was just part of the room atmosphere. The room was dark and very cold, it had a single window but it was obstructed heavily. In a corner, a huge refrigerator hummed softly.

Souta turned to father Donato.

“What is that room?”

But Souta already knew.                                   

“Whenever you feel like bullying your brother or hitting someone, come here.” That was father Donato's answer. With a serene smile but a bit too crooked, he handed him a key. “Do  _not_  lose it anywhere. In this room, you can help me prepare the meat and release your anger. I will now show you how.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Souta didn't believe in God. He only believed in the selfishness of men and ghouls alike. Or did he really?

It quickly became an habit for Souta. Whenever the anger he felt was becoming to much, he would slip swiftly into the basement and help father Donato preparing the meat. It wasn't easy at first but he was a quick learner. Soon, he was able to do it on his own, which father Donato greatly appreciated as he was very busy managing the orphanage and couldn't always come down to do what he needed.

Of course, Souta knew that the corpse he was taking care of were his siblings. But he didn't care much. He sometimes wondered at what point he could see the lifeless body of a child without being mad at the adults. He never found the answer. It must have been around the same time he had stopped being so wary of father Donato – he didn't know when either, it somehow happened.

Sure enough, it helped him release his anger. Father Donato never asked what he was mad at – when he was there, they worked in silence or, as it was happening more and more often, he would just let him alone.

Souta, during is alone time, often wondered about what made him so jealous of Koutarou, out of all his siblings. Strangely, he was also the only one of his siblings he desperately didn't want to end up downstairs in any way, shape or form. He was very confused about that too. He had strong feelings about Koutarou but he wasn't able to find out which. He had since long figured out that father Donato's “Koutarou smile”, as Souta as labelled it, was in cause somewhere.

But it wasn't just that.

Whenever he saw Koutarou smile, he wanted to hit him until he wouldn't smile anymore. So he went to the basement and butchered some of his other siblings that hadn't done anyone any harm. Then when came the time of training, he pushed Koutarou more and more. Once, he had to carry him outside of the room because he couldn't move anymore after a very intense training session. That was satisfying.

 

Months passed, Souta turned seven. He didn't tell anybody. Nobody asked.

 

Some more time passed and Koutarou turned older as well. He was now eleven. It was a big deal, there were cakes, there were candles and songs. There were even donuts that father Donato had baked in the morning – which wasn't without reminding Souta of his first night at the orphanage.

Souta wasn't sure if it was really Koutarou's birthday they were celebrating or if it was the day he had come in the orphanage.

There weren't any presents, just like in the Sunlit Garden. Souta had found it odd when the kids at school offered each other presents for their birthday. In the Garden, it was just a day. You had to know it because it was important on the papers, but it wasn't celebrated. Here in the orphanage, it was celebrated with delicious food and cakes. And smiles. A lot of smiles. Even Souta couldn't be mad or jealous. It was sweet and he was happy for him – for once.

 

The following week, during the training session with Koutarou, Souta decided to tell him something. It wasn't an apology, like father Donato hoped him to give. It was his dangerous secret – or at least part of it.

They were sparring, just like they used to. Koutarou had become much better so it was becoming much more fun to teach him a lot of things. He was also growing quickly and he was taller than Souta, now. Even his built was better. Souta wondered why – he knew for sure that he was stronger than his brother and that he trained more.

Souta won another round and explained where Koutarou had made mistakes. He was listening very carefully, as usual, nodding occasionally and promising he'd do better next time.

Then they stretched.

“Hey, Koutarou,” started Souta, “can I tell you a secret?”

“Sure,” said Koutarou. 

Souta gulped from his bottle and turned to his brother, who was waiting expectantly. He asked:

“Do you know what ghouls are?”

Koutarou nodded lightly and answered: “Yes. They're monsters that eat people, right?”

Souta chuckled. “I wouldn't say 'monsters'. They don't have the choice.”

Koutarou nodded again. “You're right, I shouldn't call them monsters. They're creatures of God too and so deserving of love.”

“Huh, yeah, if you say so. Either way, what I wanted to say is that my...” he gritted his teeth, he really didn't want to call him that, nor did he feel like he actually could, but to explain the situation he had no other choice, did he? “well, my father from before here is a ghoul.”

“Oh.” Koutarou averted his eyes, not knowing how to react. He looked at his bottle of water, as if it held the answers. Not finding any, he reported his eyes back on Souta, who was keeping his brother's reaction in check, to know how to react himself in the most appropriate way.

“Do you have to eat people too?”

Koutarou's question was almost a whisper, from the tip of his lips, with a glance at Souta, who shrugged. “No, I can eat normal food.” He laughed and added: “If it wasn't the case, I wouldn't have joined the orphanage. Too many risks of being found out.” He thought about father Donato and his room in the basement. “Either way, I'm neither a ghoul nor a human, I'm a demi-human, which means I can eat food but I get old super quickly.”

Koutarou frowned. “What do you mean?”

Souta wanted to answer, but he hesitated. He jumped back on his feet and looked up at the ceiling lamps, half-hoping for a distraction to happen right now. But nothing came. He shuddered when he thought about that day when he found the Washuu family tree. The lives that didn't extend much past thirty. His mother's name and two dates. His own name written under, that sounded like a countdown. He had found out that his days were numbered, more than other people, and he had decided to do all he wanted during the short time he had. And what he wanted didn't include the Garden or the CCG. If he could see them burn, then all the better, but he wanted to get away.

Get away and start over. A new family with Rize, somewhere in Tokyo.

A dream that never came true, after all, as he never found Rize.

He looked at Koutarou from the corner of his eye. Well, maybe some of it did become true, after all... He decided to answer: “Demi-humans die of old age when they're thirty.” He turned to Koutarou and continued: “It happened to my mother, and I know it will happen to me too. I don't have much years left.”

Koutarou quickly did the maths and said: “Well sounds to me like you still have plenty of time. Thank God for the time he allowed you to spend on Earth with your loved ones and enjoy it, I guess?” He smiled.

That smile pained Souta. It was too see-through. It was too open, too true. He didn't even have to label his smiles, they were all genuinely happy. When Koutarou wasn't happy, he didn't smile – that was a simple as that.

Souta turned away, as he felt like he was being blinded. He stared intensely at the mat on the floor. “You might be right.” But Souta didn't believe in God. He only believed in the selfishness of men and ghouls alike.

“Ah, right. Father Donato already knows all this, so if that comes up, one way or another, you don't have to lie to him.”

Souta doubted that it would ever be the case but he felt like he had to say it. One glance at Koutarou's face confirmed it. He appeared relieved and sighed with a grateful smile: “Thank you!” before adding, almost to himself: “I hate lying to him.”

 

Souta could turn and turn around in his bed, there was no way for him to fall asleep. He still felt nervous from his talk with Koutarou earlier and his unchanged attitude didn't help Souta to feel better. He quietly listened to his brother's steady breathing. He had been asleep since long – Souta didn't know for how long as he couldn't see the clock in the dark, but he felt like it had been hours.

Once again, his thoughts derived toward Rize. It had been so long since he last saw her, he wondered how she was doing, if she'd been caught, if she had changed.

He had no doubt she was still alive. If he ever doubted that, he would probably break down crying – and he didn't want to. He missed her so much, but he had the hope to see her again sometime. He wanted to never be deprived of this hope.

Still, he wondered if she thought about him, sometimes... He hoped so! He thought about how he had found a new family, thought about how he wanted her to meet them, how he hoped she had found a family for herself as well and how he wished to meet them. Still, he couldn't fall asleep. His eyes just kept opening, and he kept staring at the walls, listening to his brother breathe.

He sighed and got out of bed. He put on his shoes and walked out of the room. Maybe if he walked a bit he would be able to sleep afterwards. So he wandered in the cold and dark corridors only lighted by the shy moon outside the tall and narrow windows.

Somewhere deep inside him, he still had that anxiousness to see the tall figure of a V agent suddenly appear to tell him to go back to his room immediately but he was much more relaxed after all these months. He knew father Donato wouldn't let them find him. Right? He shook his head. He couldn't afford to doubt it. He just kept on walking.

As he walked near father Donato's office, he could see the light under the door. He always worked very hard. It must not be easy to manage all of this. Souta nodded to himself and continued his stroll. He made a complete tour of the orphanage but he really didn't want to go back to his room so he opened the door and went outside, in the courtyard.

There, Brick the dog was sleeping peacefully in the house they had made for him a Saturday afternoon, a few months back. Souta didn't know what to do. It's not like he had expected to play with the dog, since he knew he would be sleeping, so he just stood in the middle of the courtyard, wondering what in the world he could do to delay his sleep a bit more.

He started practicing his fighting moves, going from the most basic ones that he remembered from back then. He did them a bunch of times, as he knew it was better to have the bases well set rather than to know difficult moves and then messing them up. He started slowly. The feeling was really familiar for some reason. He started to feel uneasy but didn't stop.

Couldn't.

He was sweating much more than he was used to and he had just realized why he was so anxious. His breathing became uneven but his moves kept consistance. Outdoor training, the air against his face as he moves, the repetitive trainings, cold eyes on him...

“Souta, what are you doing outside at this hour?”

The voice almost made him jump out of his skin. He stopped and straightened his back, chin up, ready to bow and apologize.

“Souta?” repeated the voice. He turned his head, and saw father Donato walking toward him.

He exhaled in relied a breath he didn't know he was holding. Right. Sir Tsuneyoshi wouldn't call him Souta. Sir Tsuneyoshi's voice wouldn't have concern in it. He wasn't in the Garden, he was at home. He was safe.

“Sorry,” he said, still tense, “I couldn't sleep.”

Father Donato was still wearing his cassock but had his glasses on, which he rarely ever did during the day. He walked toward Souta, shivering a bit when a breeze started to blow. “Come back inside, you'll catch a cold.”

Souta nodded and obeyed. As soon as he was back inside the corridors, without the cold air slapping his face every move he made, he felt something move inside of him. The hand father Donato put on his shoulder startled him but he forced himself not to move. He had decided he trusted him, it was no time to turn back, not because of a reminiscing feeling of piercing eyes watching his every move.

 

Donato didn't say anything at first, waiting for Souta to calm himself down. When the kid's muscles relaxed a bit under his hand, he released him. Souta was keeping his eyes fixated on the wall in front of him. Once again, Donato had the feeling that the kid was fleeing something. From time to time, though less often these months, he seemed so on edge that Donato himself expected someone to jump from the shadows. Souta had told nothing about that to him but his resolve to protect the kid hadn't changed from the first night – if anything, he was all the more willing.

“Do you want a hot chocolate?”

After these moments of silence, hearing his voice echo on the stone walls felt eerie. The kid looked up at him, and in his dark eyes, Donato could almost feel his own coldness, and not the usual warmth the kid had in him. He felt his heart squeeze in his chest – something he was not used to. He smiled.

In a flash, the child's attitude changed totally. He smiled back.

 

Pouring the milk in a bowl for Souta, Donato kept an eye on the boy and his reactions. He had considerably calmed down but somehow he could see there was still something wrong. He did not inquire, he just handed the bowl to him and sat in front of him.

After his first sip, Souta put it back on the kitchen's table and looked straight into Donato's eyes.

“I told Koutarou,” he suddenly announced.

This time around, it was Donato's turn to freeze. Without even thinking about it, his kakugan was released. Souta's sudden recoil made him realize the change. He made his eyes go back to blue and pinched the bridge of his nose, not knowing really what to expect else from the kid.

Souta put his hands up defensively. “Ah, I didn't mean about you! I told him I was a demi-human, nothing else.”

Relief poured on Donato's shoulders. “How did he react?”

Souta shrugged, “He said your God command you to love and accept everyone, or something like that.”

A small smile began on Donato's lips, which, strangely, made Souta frown. Interesting. The boy added, while looking very directly at Donato: “He was really worried about whether I eat humans or not, though.”

“Was he? We'll have to be careful with the basement, then.”

Now Donato could clearly see where the kid was going. But maybe that was the point. He couldn't help but laugh. He had no idea what had led that kid to be as sharp, and it probably wasn't a good thing for his development as a child, but Donato did neither know nor care, he simply admired his skills.

Souta was back to his bowl, sipping his chocolate milk with a thoughtful expression, most probably wondering how he could say something. Donato waited patiently. His eyes were hurting a bit and he needed sleep after the three all nighters he had pulled with the stack of papers, bills and other formalities he had pushed back a bit too long. He was finally done but he was awfully tired. Even though, he waited.

“Father...” Souta eventually started.

“Hm?”

“What is it like to have children?”

The question surprised Donato so much he almost burst out laughing. Still, there was something in Souta's expression that prevented him to. He was staring at his milk, a bit too blankly. It might have been partly because of the tiredness, as he wasn't used to stay up so late, but Donato suspected it wasn't that.

“You do know I raise them to eat them, right?” he gently replied.

Souta chuckled lightly. “But not all of us, right?”

“I guess so,” Donato couldn't help but admit. “Why the sudden interest?”

Souta lowered his head, rising his shoulders around it, as if he wished he could disappear. A tear ran down his cheek. He blinked and another followed.

“It's just that... I always dreamed of having children too. Becoming a father, and even a grandfather someday. But,” he wiped his eyes in vain as the tears kept flowing out, retained for too long behind a carefully crafted smile, “because of my blood...”

Donato knew what he meant. Well of course. Living only a half life would never allow him to be a grandfather. He had had his dreams crushed for him very early on in life. This young soul had asked nobody to be born as he was – but nobody ever asks for that, and the consequences of that are out of their hands all their lives. It's not your fault if you're born a ghoul in the middle of Tokyo. It's not your fault if you're a human orphan outside of the city. You have to deal with it, no matter what Providence brings your way.

For the first time, however, Donato felt angry at Providence. For the first time he wished someone hadn't been born as their were. He knew, of course, that had the kid been anything else, they wouldn't have met, but it wasn't his concern here.

A thin smile stretched his lips and he rose from his chair to sit beside Souta on the little bench.

“I see,” he said.

Souta, face still wet from the tears, didn't move an inch. He kept his hands under the table, grabbing one with the other. Slowly, Donato raised his hand and put it down as gently as he could on Souta's shoulder. He then pulled the kid toward him, half expecting him to evade from the embrace. But he just looked up at him, eyes red from crying, nose a little runny, as he let his head fall on Donato. The kid kept sniffling but ended up closing his eyes, shaking a bit.

Stroking Souta's hair with his thumb, he started: “Having children can be... very difficult sometimes. It's tiring. They fight all the time for no apparent reason, and you have to make sacrifices, too.”

Souta's jaw was trembling. The boy was clinging to Donato's cassock. He continued: “But you know, it's worth it. Because every time you wake up early to bake their favorite food, every time you see their smiles...” He paused for a second, not able to repress the apparent fondness in his voice.

“...every time you hug them when they're sad or scared...”

Souta buried his face in Donato's chest, clinging to him as if his life depended on him, now audibly sobbing. Donato closed his eyes, holding him as he could, and finished his sentence:

“...you remember how much you love them.”

He lightly kissed the top of the boy's head, letting him cry all he needed.

 

A few minutes later, Souta passed out from exhaustion and Donato carried him back to his room. While he was there, he adjusted Koutarou's blanket, as he had made quite a mess of it. As he went back to his own room to try and get some sleep before morning, he couldn't help but to smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
